Nothing to Fear But Ferrets

by Linda O. Johnston

  “How many?”

  “Two.”

  Seven surrounded us in this room. “Is this all of them?” I asked.

  “No.” She sighed again. “Vennie had a litter of five puppies a few weeks ago. They’re all in the kitchen.”

  “Vennie for Venice?” I asked, as if that was relevant to the issue.

  “Ventura.”

  “And are you going to place the puppies in other homes?”

  “Most, but I wanted to keep one.”

  “I see.” My turn for a sigh. “Marie, did Fran tell you that, though I’m a lawyer, I can’t give legal advice right now?”

  “Sure.” As with Jon Arlen, she admitted that Fran had told her about my problems. She’d also read some about them in the news. “You were cleared of doing anything wrong, right?”

  “Right.” As I’d done often lately, I explained I still needed a passing score on the ethics exam I’d taken two days before. “It’ll be weeks before I hear if I’ll be reinstated. And you probably don’t have weeks.”

  “No,” she said sadly, sniffling. The sound must have galvanized her boxers to action, since those surrounding her stirred, and the brindle one on her lap stretched up enough to lick her cheek. “Thank you, Seal,” she said.

  Seal Beach, I ticked off in my mind.

  “Fran also told me that you helped her in a way that didn’t require a law license. You came up with a brilliant scheme that helped her outwit that awful ex of hers.”

  “I don’t know how brilliant it was,” I murmured modestly, “but it did the trick.”

  “I’ll say. And now I need something like that to get my miserable next-door neighbor off my case. She’s stirring up the entire association. She’s made it clear she wants to be elected president next year, so she needs an issue to get attention. I’m just unlucky enough to be it.”

  “What does she complain about?” I asked. Barking, I figured. The yard looked clean, at least from the front, so I didn’t bet on doggie piles as being the subject of her protests.

  “Well, they are a little noisy sometimes when they’re in the yard, being watchdogs. But that’s true of all dogs. Best I can tell, she just is a stickler for following all rules exactly, even if there’s no harm done by violating them.”

  “Does she have any pets?”

  “She had a cat, but it was old and passed away a few months ago. Of course she blames that on me, too—like my dogs barked it to death.” Marie looked at me hopefully. “Do you think you can help me, Kendra?”

  “No guarantees, but I’ll see what I can come up with. Meantime, do you have a copy of the CC&Rs and association rules that I can borrow? If I find legal arguments for you in them, you’ll have to hire someone else to assert them on your behalf, but I’ll be glad to explain them to whomever you choose.”

  “Okay. I’ll pay you in any case.”

  “No, thanks. It’d be too close to accepting payment for the unauthorized practice of law.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be in touch.” I gently urged Manny to move off my lap and onto the floor.

  “Would you like to see Vennie and her babies?” Marie asked as I rose.

  “I’d love to.”

  After extracting herself from her dog sandwich, she showed me to the kitchen. On the floor, behind a metal fence, a pretty brindle boxer lay to one side. Around and over her, a pack of exuberant puppies engaged in mock enmity, growling and gnawing on one another. They were small, short-coated, and altogether adorable. “How cute!” I exclaimed.

  “Aren’t they?” Marie beamed as brightly as if the babies were hers. Which they were, in a manner of speaking. She opened a back door and let a bunch of dogs into the backyard. Then she handed me the paperwork I’d pressed her for and led me into the entry again. “I’ll be eager to hear from you,” she said.

  “I’ll see what I come up with, but you can’t count on me solving this,” I told her seriously. “Just in case, you might start seeing what good homes you could find for most of your dogs and pups.”

  “I know,” she said weepily. “But surely I can keep more than two.”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  As she closed the door behind me, I darted a glance next door. The same nosy neighbor, probably Marie’s adversary, was gardening in her front yard. Or perhaps she was simply spying. She was younger than Marie, maybe mid-thirties, and she wore tight jeans and an even tighter frown. “Hi,” I called, then approached her. “I’m Kendra Ballantyne, a pet-sitter.” I pulled out one of my cards and placed it in her unresponsive palm. At least her fingers folded over it.

  “Are you going to be watching Marie’s dogs?” she demanded in a tone that suggested it would be the straw that broke the homeowners’ association’s back.

  “Not yet,” I said. “But she told me you recently lost your cat. I just wanted to express my condolences.”

  Her eyes misted up. Maybe she wasn’t a friendly neighbor, but the woman was human after all. “Thanks,” she whispered. Then, more strongly, she said, “Do you know, that woman never said a word. I blame her dogs for shortening Sagebrush’s life.”

  Ah-hah. As Marie suggested, an excuse for her antipathy. But could I do anything to dissipate it?

  “How?” I asked.

  “They chased the poor old thing every time he got into Marie’s yard.”

  “I see. And was he an invited guest?”

  “He was a cat,” she snapped, as if that explained everything.

  “And they’re just dogs,” I countered quietly, hoping she would be as understanding as she expected of me.

  Of course she wasn’t. “Yes, at least nine of them,” she barked. “And our CC&Rs only allow two. If I were the president of the association, I’d have enforced the rules long ago.”

  “And you’re interested in becoming president now?”

  “What business is it of yours?” she demanded.

  “None,” I said, placing my palms up placatingly.

  Obviously, this conversation was only making her crankier, but at least I now had some knowledge about her take on the situation. “See you next time,” I said cheerfully, then turned and headed for my Beamer.

  ONE MORE QUICK stop before evening rounds: Avvie Milton’s. Though she wasn’t leaving town for another couple of days, I’d promised to drop by to meet Pansy, her potbellied pig, and learn the routine for tending her.

  Avvie lived on the city side of Coldwater Canyon, a little farther than I generally liked to go for pet-sitting, since it meant more time on the road between stops. But this was Avvie. Our friendship had frayed after all the twists and turns it had taken. Even so, we’d been close before and I still liked the intelligent young associate—despite her lack of common sense for staying involved with Bill Sergement.

  Her place was small and set into a hillside. I had to make sure the Beamer’s parking brake was well set before I ventured out and up to the pale blue home’s front door. I rang the bell. No dogs barked. But when Avvie opened the door, a little black-and-white Lexie-sized creature bounded toward me. It had tiny cloven feet and a long snout, and its fur was wiry.

  “I never really thought of a pig as having hair,” I told Avvie immediately. “Guess I always pictured the pink-skinned Porky cartoon character.”

  “Most people do, I think,” Avvie said. “Isn’t she cute? Pansy, meet Kendra.” The little creature looked up, as if she understood. “She’s very intelligent,” Avvie told me. I believed it.

  Avvie showed me around her house, which I hadn’t visited in years. She’d apparently developed an affinity for antiques. Most of her stuff, though well maintained, looked old—lots of carved wood and cherry-colored velvet.

  Pansy’s special sleeping place was in the corner of the living room. A futon had been fixed up for her with pillows and blankets on top. A person could have crashed there comfortably.

  I learned from Avvie that potbellied pigs lack the gland that tells them when their tummies are full.

  “L
ike a lot of people,” I observed. “Me among them, sometimes.”

  She laughed. “Anyway, I’ll write down exactly what to feed Pansy and when—pig food, plus salad. She also gets yard time for exercise.”

  “Should I walk her?”

  “Interesting idea. I’ve never tried it … I’d say no, not this time. You have to watch to make sure she’s not attacked by any dogs, since she has no way to fight back.”

  I got Avvie’s house key and a list of instructions. “Make sure you give her lots of attention,” Avvie said. “She’ll need mental stimulation. She’s used to being alone during the day when I’m at the office, but then she wants me to sit with her and hold a conversation. You’ll see.”

  “I won’t be able to spend long periods with her,” I cautioned Avvie. “Not with all the other pets I have to see to.”

  “I’ll only be gone four days this time,” Avvie said. “This will be an experiment to see how it goes. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll have to find someone to sleep here when I’m gone. Unless you think you’d be able to … ?”

  “It’ll depend,” I hedged. Before, if I needed to stay overnight at another pet-sitting client’s, I’d simply done so. But now, I might feel inclined to do it less, if I became Jeff ’s and Odin’s permanent in-home pet-sitter.

  I’d need to make that decision sometime within the next few hours. Wouldn’t I?

  Well, not necessarily. I could ask for more time, and Jeff would simply have to accept that. If he didn’t, that would supply me with my answer.

  Right now, I was inclining toward the affirmative. If I inclined any further, I might fall right into it.

  I said goodbye to Avvie, then headed off hurriedly to handle my evening visits.

  It was nearly seven thirty when I finally finished and headed for Jeff ’s. On the way, I picked up some of our favorite Thai takeout—a celebratory dinner? I wasn’t sure, but I grabbed a bottle of champagne, just in case.

  I was eager to see Jeff, to talk logistics and longevity and lots of other stuff I’d want to know before giving him my answer. Even if I was all but certain what it would be.

  Yes! shouted my libido. After visiting Avvie, my mind had returned to those days when I’d had Bill Sergement as a lover, and had been positive afterward about my own really poor judgment when it came to men.

  But Jeff was different. He was independent, and prized my independence, too. Our careers were complementary but we weren’t competitive about them. He’d helped me when I needed it, butted out when I needed that, and gave me lots of good loving—which I was discovering I always needed.

  I trusted the guy and cared for him, a lot. It was too soon to know if I loved him, but … That could be coming, too.

  So, I eagerly parked the Beamer under the light in his driveway beside his Escalade, grabbed the handles of the plastic bag filled with Thai food, and hurried up the front walk. I used my own front door key, the one I had for when Jeff was out of town.

  And stopped when I heard voices. One was female.

  No time to go back out and ring the bell. The dogs had discovered my presence and, barking, barreled through the house toward me. As they leapt on me eagerly in greeting, I stooped long enough to pet them. When I looked up, Jeff was entering the entry from the steps down to his sunken living room. “Kendra, hi,” he said in a tone I didn’t recognize. And I didn’t hear the warmth and welcome I’d expected that evening.

  Behind him was a woman, who was tall and slender with the features of a fashion model—all cheekbones and eyes and a mouth so pouty it fairly pouffed. But her perfection was marred by redness around those eyes and a sag to her slim shoulders.

  Who was she?

  “Hello,” I said when Jeff didn’t jump to introduce us. “I’m Kendra Ballantyne.” Shifting the handles of the plastic bag I held, I approached her with my hand held out, dodging when Jeff seemed eager to obstruct my approach.

  “Hi,” she said in a soft, perfect voice, her expression unwelcoming and wry. “I’m Amanda Hubbard. Jeff’s wife.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “EX!” EXCLAIMED JEFF before I asked any questions.

  As if I could anyway. Even as a litigator, confronted with confounding witness revelations, I’d never felt so tongue-tied.

  I’d been pet-sitting for Jeff for months, and sleeping with him for a substantial part of that time.

  He’d never even hinted that he was married.

  I supposed that was was the operative word, if his blurted-out syllable was intended to divulge that they were divorced.

  “That’s right,” Amanda agreed, as if she saw what I was thinking flash in neon on my face. “We were divorced a year ago.” Her head bent as if she remained in pain, causing her long golden waves to frame her pretty face even further. My hair had once been an attractive artificial color like that.

  They’d divorced only a year ago? Then had Jeff bounced into bed with me on a slightly delayed rebound?

  I noticed my knees were quaking, but damned if I was going to beg to sit down, especially here, where we all remained crowded in the entry. Instead, I knelt to hug Lexie, who sat before me and stared up, head cocked in concern. Even she seemed to see what I was thinking.

  I wished I were among the many mind readers around here, for my brain had become blank.

  My pup’s kindness was quickly distracted by the aroma of food in the bag I’d rested on the floor, so I rose again before she could reach in and help herself.

  “I see,” I finally said inanely to the two humans. “Well, I think Lexie and I will be going now. Hope you brought your appetites.” I held out the bag to Jeff.

  “No.” He inserted himself between the exit and me without accepting what I proffered. “Amanda’s here because she’s in trouble.” Speaking of trouble, I saw something that reeked of uneasiness slide along Jeff ’s brow. Embarrassment? Irritation that his deep, dark secret was now outed for all to know?

  “That’s right,” Amanda said as if following a cue. Her reddened gray eyes grew even wider, and they filled with tears. “It’s a stalker. A man I used to date—after Jeff and I split, of course—has been calling me at home and at work. Showing up at my house, and even tailing me in my car.” She sighed unevenly. “The authorities haven’t been much help, and I’ve been so scared … I thought Jeff might be able to do something. He’s in the security business, after all.”

  “Of course,” I acknowledged. “He’s quite good at it, I understand.” She’d know that, but once I began babbling, I couldn’t quite stop. “There are lots of legal possibilities. I’m sure Jeff’ll help you find the right one and get your problem straightened out.” While I remained twisted inside as if he’d tied my arteries and veins in knots around my most vital organs.

  He’d been married. He’d never bothered to tell me that minor piece of background information.

  Well, so what? I hadn’t told him, either, about my damned dalliance with Drill Sergeant when I’d started working at the Marden firm—though he’d uncovered it while conducting the investigation he’d helped me with before. Nor had I told him of other, briefer affairs I’d engaged in occasionally post-Sergement—all of which had convinced me even more completely about my lack of intelligence when it came to mixing with men. Or about other things from my past that I’d considered irrelevant.

  So why was I surprised that I’d flubbed it yet again?

  It wasn’t as if I’d asked Jeff to detail his past liaisons, either. Still, an ex-wife was a bigger secret than a little indiscretion here and there.

  It’s probably all in the past, I reminded myself. That’s usually what an ex implied.

  But if so, what’s she really doing here? my inner gremlin gibed.

  And did I really want to know?

  “Tell you what,” I said. “I don’t want to intrude while the two of you discuss security. I’ll take one of the entrées, and you can share the rest—the champagne, too. Jeff, call me next time you’re heading out of town and need me to kee
p an eye on Odin.” I knelt once more and gave that adorable Akita a hug, all the while maneuvering to keep the food away from both canines.

  “You don’t need to leave. Really.” That was Amanda exhorting me.

  “That’s right,” Jeff agreed. “At least join us for dinner.”

  And then head home after hearing them rehash old times together?

  Since they were divorced, maybe those old times were the worst, but even so, it would hardly help my digestion.

  “Thanks anyway,” I said. I dug into the bag and extracted a small box without checking its contents. Then, grabbing Lexie’s leash from the floor, I feinted left, then darted around Jeff to the right and headed out the front door.

  I SWORE CEASELESSLY at the droves of other drivers who dared to weave into my path as I hurried the Beamer home. At least I forbore from hurtling hand signals at them, which in L.A. could only get one into hot water—or possibly an early grave.

  Poor Lexie assumed I was angry with her, for she sat cowering on the passenger’s seat, her long black ears bent back on her head.

  “It’s not you, pup,” I reassured her when we stopped for a light. I petted her comfortingly, but she didn’t seem convinced. Maybe that was because I spat out a stream of invectives when someone dared to make a left turn in front of me when the light finally turned green.

  “I can’t complain too much about the timing,” I confided in Lexie. “I mean, I just might have told the slimy, secretive bastard tonight that I was considering moving in with him. Before I even knew that he’d already been there, done that, and walked away—from a wife, yet.”

  Of course I didn’t know the circumstances. She could have walked away from him.

  Did it matter?

  Could I be overreacting?

  So what if I was?

  We finally reached our street. Fortunately, I slowed by habit when faced with the hills and turns. Otherwise, I might have slammed right into Lyle Urquard, who was barreling down as if he’d lost his bicycle brakes. As it was, he slid to a stop, but at least this time neither he nor his bike toppled over. I waved and kept going.

  I didn’t need to use the electronic control when I reached our gate. It was already ajar. Damn it all, Charlotte and Yul, I yelled inside my skull. Isn’t it about time you start paying attention to the terms of the lease? I wasn’t sure I could stomach more parties and ferrets and open entries just now, even for the lucrative rent I received.